


Or Maybe I'm Mad, Yelling at The World

by spiffyyy



Category: 18th Century CE RPF, American Revolution RPF, Historical RPF
Genre: Angst, Comfort, Deep Conversations under the moonlight, Hugs, M/M, Night Terrors, Some Fluff, a missing horse?!11!!!??, alexander using dear and dearest is superior, also him calling john 'jack', not much but eh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-17 05:28:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28594758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spiffyyy/pseuds/spiffyyy
Summary: The stress of the war finally has become too much for both Alexander and John. They deal with their worries.
Relationships: Alexander Hamilton/John Laurens
Comments: 2
Kudos: 14





	Or Maybe I'm Mad, Yelling at The World

**Author's Note:**

> I know the summary makes this sound like smut, but sorry not today. Anyway, enjoy :)

"Lieutenant Colonel Hamilton," A boy at the door lifted his head from a bow when Hamilton looked up from a rather lengthy letter he was editing for the General. He was dressed in a noticeably small jacket and a hat that nearly covered his eyes, a silent reminder of the army's current circumstances. Equipment, textiles, foodstuffs, ammunition, they needed more... And that 'more' did not exist. Hamilton squinted in his glasses at the boy, he was not sure he knew him. Perhaps a mail boy or one of the other general's aides, however, he looked young, "That is you I hope, I was told I would find you here."

He gave a nod, he was always in the office Washington had sat aside for his staff. Tonight Hamilton was the last one remaining, candles surrounded his workspace-the sun had set some hours ago. Whoever sent the boy knew him well, "Who has sent you here? Was it Laurens?"

"No, the Marquis de Lafayette, he asks that you..."

Hamilton held up a finger, the boy went quiet, "Tell him to call for me in the morning, I have work to finish," He glanced to a window, the moon was high in the sky, "It's nearly midnight, I've no time for a meeting or request."

"Lieutenant, I was told that it was important," The boy began fiddling with the hem of his jacket, Hamilton reminded himself that he must be new.

He sighed, holding back his temper, "Allow me to pack up my work, then I shall follow you to the Marquis," Hamilton supposed he would have to finish editing the letter in his cabin, it was due to be sent out in the morning. Urgent work for General Washington hardly had time for delays.

-

Hamilton mumbled bitterly to himself as he trudged through camp in complete darkness, he hoped he was headed in the right direction. Lafayette had lost his horse and had called for Hamilton in a panic, he had begged him to help search for the stallion. Hamilton had reluctantly agreed, his friend's distressed expression was far too sad to say no to. 

This futile chase had lasted for nearly half an hour before Hamilton finally broke and said he needed to finish his work for the night. Lafayette had nodded, thanking him before running off in a different direction. He wouldn't say it but Hamilton was sure that one of the captains had taken a spare horse from on the stables yesterday afternoon. Hamilton quite possibly may have been the one who said it was fine to take a certain black stallion. He had not known it was the Marquis' horse!

He somehow made it back to the cabin, thankful for the relatively warm spring night. The door creaked as he opened it and Hamilton winced at the noise, John was most likely asleep. The room was lit by a small fireplace, and he caught a glimpse of John's sleeping figure in his cot, well... their cot he supposed. 

Earlier this year when Hamilton returned to Valley Forge from New York he had been terribly weak with illness and was granted a cabin instead of the stuffy quarters of the Pott's House. Perhaps the luxury was out of pity as no one had told him to move to the Pott's House once he had returned to full health. John had been lucky to share the cabin with him, on the excuse of making sure he did not go into a fever in his sleep. Soon one of the cots was left abandoned as Hamilton found himself embraced in John's arms every night.

Hamilton gently nudged the door shut, taking frequent glances back to John-he would feel awful if he were to wake him. He carefully sat down at his desk, lighting a candle and taking the folded up letter out of his coat pocket. Despite how much he wanted to curl up at John's side, the letter would need to be finished before he retired to bed.

This particular letter was to the quartermaster general-Nathaniel Greene-regarding a shortage of ammunition, horses, textiles for coats, and foodstuffs. It hurt to ask for what he knew there was little but Washington had asked him to do so in anticipation of a British attack. They were bordering on the end of spring and would change camps soon or go into battle, it was a necessity they be ready.

Hamilton was halfway through copying down his final draft of the letter when a muffled shout came from across the room. He turned his head to look towards John's cot, it was too dark to see the man clearly so Hamilton dropped his quill into the ink pot and rose to his feet. John didn't usually have night terrors or anything of the sort so this was somewhat surprising. As he approached, Hamilton was able to make out John as he thrashed around-choked up sobs leaving his mouth.

He quickly stooped down to the cot, unsure of what to do next he spoke softly, "John?" When left without a response of any sort, Hamilton tentatively moved his hands to John's shoulders. The blond jolted at the touch, his cheeks stained with tears and a pitiful whimper leaving his mouth. Hamilton winced at the obvious distress and leaned over him shaking his shoulders lightly, "Dear, you need to wake up."

Hamilton's stomach erupted in pain at a hit from what he assumed was John's knee. He took a shaky inhale, the feeling burning his lungs. He felt as though he was going about this erroneously, when he was a boy it was always someone waking him from a dream. His mother would be at his side, hugging him close to her chest as she murmured soft words of comfort. Perhaps he could do something similar for John.

It was a struggle to pull John up into an embrace, the man lashing out and attempting to fight whatever he saw in his terror. Hamilton tried to ignore the aching pain and managed to pull his friend into a tight hug as he sat down on the cot in front of him. Slowly, John stopped his hitting and Hamilton thought he heard an unsteady breath, "Jack...dear, it's all okay. You're safe."

John seemed to recognize his voice and dragged a trembling hand up to his auburn hair, running his fingers through the curls, "Alexander," He muttered it more as a statement, Hamilton cringed at the harsh rasp in his voice.

He felt his friend sniffling softly into his waistcoat, "You were injured and you fell from your horse. I tried to reach you but you were shot again, and then I held you and watched as you..." He released another sniffle and Hamilton let a hand journey to John's face, holding his cheek.

"I'm here," Hamilton affirmed and John dipped his head back into his chest exhaling shakily. The stress of war seemed to be getting to both of them, unconscious worrying could be so concealed until it came to a head. Everyone's safety was on the line, whether by famine or gunshot, this was not child's play. Still, with this in mind, Hamilton felt guilt at how bottled up John's worries seemed to be. For those worries to strike in a twisted night terror, and of him the focal point. Hamilton did not want him to suffer for his safety.

"Alexander?" John's voice seemed too small for the man he was.

"Yes, dearest?"

He looked up from where his head was buried in his waistcoat, "I don't wish to trouble you after what you just saw but I don't think I can get back to sleep, I'm afraid that I'll start seeing it again."

"John, you've never troubled me and never will. I hope you've not underestimated my regard for you," He brought his chin up, kissing him softly. Hamilton pulled back looking into John's clear eyes, he murmured, "I'll stay up with you, I'll always stay with you."

John nodded, seemingly at a loss of words. Hamilton was always more affectionate with his words, it's not as though he minded. He loved seeing the way John's staid complexion would crumble to fondness at just a few sentences.

"Could we go outside, if only for a few moments?" John asked slowly, clearly hesitant.

Hamilton dropped his arms and moved to stand to his feet, "Of course," John followed after him, buttoning up a waistcoat and pulling on his breeches. Hamilton grabbed a candle and pulled open the cabin door, watching as John slipped on his boots. He had never taken his off during his work... The work that he had left unfinished. Hamilton tried not to let that stress him and held the door open for John.

The night sky was darker than earlier, he thought it to be nearing two a.m. and the camp certainly felt it. Hamilton led John by hand-no one was awake in his field of view-through several trees before reaching a small creek. The aides-de-camp would typically take their bathing here rather than Schuylkill River as it was less busy.

He sat his candle down near a tree before pulling John down to lean against the wood, they didn't say anything. Hamilton was glad for the silence, he needed time to collect his thoughts. He took John's hand and rested his head against his shoulder, looking out over the creek he could make out the rush of water as it traveled. Hamilton was not blind to his lover's affinity for nature and the creatures that inhabited their world. He'd found John outside far too many times sketching a scene with a piece of charcoal, or once he found him drawing a bird that had landed on a low hanging branch.

"Has your head cleared?" He asked softly, rubbing a circle with his thumb on his hand. John didn't reply, opting to tighten their joined hands. Hamilton took that response as a no, "It wasn't real, Jack," He reassured.

"I know," John spoke, Hamilton watched as he scooped up a small stone with his free hand and threw it, "But it could be," The stone made a small splash as it hit the edge of the water.

"You're letting your fears destroy you, this war has always been a thing of imperilment. Every day a new concern presents itself, you know this just as much as I do. We cannot do a thing about matters we cannot control. This fact tears me from the inside as much as it does you, but we must come to understand that we are doing our best to ensure our survival," He hoped that if he spoke what he also struggled with then it would be easier for both of them to believe. If he was to be most honest with himself, he would question why he hasn't been disturbed from night terrors yet.

"Are we though? Have we- have I done my best? And what of you? Alexander, you nearly died this winter from illness and yet kept working until you fell unconscious with fever," John sputtered out, his grip on Hamilton's hand only tightening until he was digging his other hand into the grass to not yelp.

He lifted his head from John's shoulder, moving to sit on his haunches to look at him directly, "And I've learned to rest when I begin to feel ill, I know my body to be a weak one and don't dare to test the limits again," Hamilton knew he was lying, but desperately wanted John's unrest to stop. Their eyes met and John quickly glanced away before looking back and staring with unsettling intense blue eyes.

"What were you doing before you woke me, you weren't in bed and I went to sleep alone," John demanded, his stare turning into a glare.

"I- I was working on a letter-"

"It's the middle of the night, and we wake at dawn!" John's voice rose to a shout, Hamilton winced, instinctually moving his hand to cover John's mouth. He couldn't be yelling by the fact that it actually was the middle of the night.

He attempted to explain, a slight stammer in his voice-John was not one to shout, "I needed to finish it, it needs to be sent out tomorrow morning. I would have finished it earlier in the evening if it wasn't for our friend Lafayette," Hamilton decided to not go into the details and dropped his hand from John's mouth, trusting him not to raise his voice again.

John grabbed his hand as it fell, Hamilton stumbled off his feet and into a hug. His knees on the ground as John tugged his torso close, it was somewhat of an awkward position. John sat against the tree, his legs laid out in front of him. Hamilton pulled over with his upper half nearly falling into John's lap, "I understand Alexander, though one small letter that's late won't ruin all of what you've worked for," John went quiet for a couple of seconds, releasing Hamilton from the hug, "I apologize for shouting, I should not have let my anger take the best of me. I just worry about you."

"As I do for you," Hamilton took John's hand, kissing it, "You should know that you're not the most cautious person either, perhaps we both need to admit we're hypocrites."

John chuckled, "I shall not till you stop working yourself to the ground."

"I suppose some things can never change."

**Author's Note:**

> feel free to comment with any constructive criticism, I'm trying to improve on my writing more this year.


End file.
